Tomorrow is my seventh wedding anniversary.
Amid reports of new divorce filings - by friends, friends of friends, and
celebrities, who, while not friends, exactly, take up more space in my conscious brain than they should - my husband and I will pass through this milestone in much the same way that we pass through any other Monday. We'll wake up to the toddler's screeching cry of "DADDY!" and we'll stumble to the coffee pot, seeking black liquid strength to jump start the morning chaos. We'll take the kids to daycare, we'll sit in traffic, we'll go to work. Once home again, we will perform the morning rituals in reverse, perhaps taking a moment or two to mark the occasion before collapsing, exhausted, into blessed sleep.
That's marriage, isn't it? If nothing else, it's the collection of so many of those regular, hectic, bickery,
Monday days, each with its own small miracle: that we have gotten this far, and still wish to proceed. I look back on the seven years since our wedding day. How vast the expanse of days seems, stretched out behind us like the cathedral train of a wedding gown, demarcated by the moment we became parents together for the first time, 2 years into our marriage. We're tired now. Older, with children and their limbs and catapults vying for our attention, dragging us away from each other even as they knit us further together. Time moves more slowly as it happens, yet seems to speed up when we turn to watch it unfurl behind us.
A few weeks ago I had lunch with a colleague whom I had not seen in years. His first news: I am getting divorced. I felt the announcement like a blow to the sternum. His family makeup is similar to ours - same career structure, age of children, etc. I probed him for the reason. We just weren't making each other happy, he said.
Is that the measure of a marriage? That we make each other happy? Humans, as mercurial, water-based creatures, can't be happy every second. What, then, is the percentage of unhappy that tips the balance to talk of divorce?
None of this is to attack divorce. I realize that for many people, they are much happier - there's that word again - after the smoke has cleared around them and the paperwork has been filed away. But then there are the wayward souls like my friend J., who ended his marriage during its first test. Years later, he wanders alone, wondering if he made an enormous mistake.
Of course, although we're paired after we take the vows, we're still among billions of humans who are unlike any other two people. And so I believe in the idea that in any marriage, we must do what works for us, there is no "right" way. If I take it personally when my friends' marriages falter, so do countless others when celebrities and politicians suffer the same fate. The stuff of scandal allows us, the audience, to stand in judgement, or solidarity. But look within. Is your marriage any better? Is your conscience? If so, congratulations. If not, welcome to the playground.
I look over at my husband sprawled over an armchair, falling asleep while watching the Science Channel. At least, tonight, it's not Fox News. I am overcome with affection for this man who has walked through life as my partner for the surprisingly gone seven years. The difficulties we have both had to withstand might be behind us, or ahead of us still. For this moment, I am comforted by what we have accomplished. Mentally, I fortify the shelter around us, knowing that chance can blow a storm over our house, too. Let the seven years behind give us strength to forge ahead.
2009
